


If They Only Knew She Had The Power

by MaryPSue



Series: firebird suite [2]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Canon What Canon, Gen, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryPSue/pseuds/MaryPSue
Summary: Carrie comes out while Jean's in college. It goes about as well as anyone might expect.





	

She’s at college, at the time, and there’s a boy, with Scott’s floppy hair and Warren’s eyes. He takes her out to the movies and, of all things, chooses  _Carrie_. 

Jean is apprehensive for all of about ten seconds. 

The movie’s pure Hollywood, can’t seem to decide whether it wants to be a saccharine afterschool special about being kind to those who are different or a cautionary tale about letting scary, violent mutants interact with society. Sissy Spacek shivers and blubbers through the title role as the poor outcast telekinetic girl, Piper Laurie as her mother gnawing her way through the scenery until Jean’s surprised any of it’s left standing. It’s melodrama, pure and simple, maudlin and nuance-free. She’s glad when it’s over, but glad she saw it, too. The spectre of the blood-drenched, wide-eyed girl against the backdrop of flames from the posters looms a little less large in the back of her mind.

The boy tries to kiss her during the prom scene and Jean concentrates, tips his drink over in his lap.

It’s a full month later when she wakes in a panicked sweat from a dream of her own mother pinned to the wall with every knife from the chopping block, like a martyr on the crucifix, eyes wide and blank and accusing.

It’s been years since Jean thought about her family last. She skips class that day, pleading a headache.

…

The call comes out of the clear blue sky, ruining an otherwise unremarkable day.

“Your mother’s in the hospital,” Jean’s father says, in lieu of a greeting. “She’s had a stroke.” He takes a deep breath, and she can hear the crack in his voice. She hasn’t heard that voice in nearly a decade, but it’s still as familiar as the cabling of her favourite sweater. “If you want to come back home, you should come now.”

She misses the jet. Driving the whole way means it’s a full day and a half later that she finally makes it through the city limits. 

Her mother’s awake, when she walks in, eyes open and staring at the ceiling, blank. Her father’s sitting beside the bed, a newspaper crossword in one hand and a pencil in the other. He looks like he hasn’t put one to the other in hours. 

He starts when Jean taps him on the shoulder, gives her an apologetic smile. She returns it, practiced and measured, takes the crossword from him gently.

“Here, let me spell you. You haven’t had any lunch, have you?”

“You know me too well,” her father sighs. He adjusts his glasses, pushes himself up from the chair. “If you’d like to - read to her, talk to her - she isn’t responding, but who knows what she can hear.”

Jean nods, stepping forward into his open arms. 

He’s warm, and his arms are as solid as she remembers, the starched collar of his shirt scratching her cheek. She wraps her arms around his waist and leans her head against his shoulder, trying to swallow down the lump forming in her throat when he strokes a hand over her hair like he used to when she was small and having trouble getting back to sleep after a nightmare.

It feels like hours before she pulls away, shaking out her hair and trying to pull together another smile. “You should get some food. We can catch up when you get back.”

“I know, I know.” Jean’s father doesn’t move, though, just looking at her. “It’s just been ages, Jeanie-girl. I’m almost scared you’ll have vanished when I get back.”

“ _Dad_. Don’t be silly.”

Jean’s father nods, and starts for the door. He stops in the doorway, though, looking back. “Are you…you’re not still doing that…” He bobs his head, tugging his necktie to one side in that way he does when he’s nervous. “Mutant thing?”

The lump in Jean’s throat grows spikes.

She glances over at the bed where her mother is lying, probably dying, eyes wide and blank and accusing.

“No,” she says, and this time the smile is harder to muster up. “No, I’m - I’m at college now.”

“Oh.” Her father’s grin is brief but real. “Well, I’m sure your mother would be glad to hear that. Are you - will you be staying long?”

“I don’t think so,” Jean says shortly. “I’ve got class Monday, there’s a big paper due, I can’t skip it.”

The smile on her father’s face slips, and for an instant Jean feels crushed by guilt. She’s tempted to take it back, but instead she bites her tongue and smiles, smiles, smiles.

“It’s good to see you, anyway,” her father says, resigned. “Your mother -” He stops, visibly composes himself. “I’m sure she appreciates that you came.”

Jean starts to respond, finds her voice failing. Instead, she just raises a hand, waves her father towards the door.

…

It takes three rings before someone picks up the phone. Jean leans against the wall beside the pay phone, watches the doctors and nurses moving through the halls. 

“Hello?”

“Scotty?” Jean wraps the phone cord around her finger, closes her eyes. “Hi. I’m in New York, I’m heading back to school today. Do you - would you mind if I came home? Just for a visit?”


End file.
